Daughters of the Moon
by Drunken Kunoichi
Summary: It was sad how my life and my death were so similar. The flames licked up my legs, as if it were savoring my taste. Slowly, painfully, almost lovingly. They wrapped around my legs, reaching my hips and exploded, angrily feeding off of my gasoline-drenched body in order to survive; to live. I sit back and ponder whether or not I have that will to live. I know I used to. [Sakura x ?]


"No! No! Get _off _of me at once! Release me! Release me this instant!"

I could feel my hair practically being pulled from my scalp as I was dragged- to where, I didn't know. Pain ripped through my back as I felt sharp rocks cut into it, puncturing it and making me bleed. My back and legs felt as if they were on fire due to the rocks and sharp blades of grass; this knocked down almost any other physical pain I've ever felt, coming close to first.

I cried and cried for help, but no soul offered any. I felt the hot tears burn my cheeks as they slid down them, now dirty from the dust and earth on them. I was lucky they didn't drag me on my stomach, but even if they tried I'd probably be too much of a struggle.

The gruff hands fisted in my fine hair, hair I so loved, finally released me. Quickly I replaced them with my own, massaging my scalp as gently as I could. It hurt, and I felt a terrible migrane coming on; especially all of the yelling I did.

"Tie her up."

My eyes snapped open, trained on the man who'd not only captured me, but planned to tie me up.

A small whimper escaped my throat, but I swallowed hard and backed up from the approaching men. I knew I looked horrible, I could see one grimance at the near sight of me. Even as the tears leaked from my midnight green eyes, even as my face was red and puffy, I glared at them with all of my soul. I made sure that they could feel it, too, as it was burning my very core. I could feel the hate etch up my spine.. but I couldn't stop crying and whimpering and shaking.

As the closest man lunged at me I propelled my body to the side, rolling only three feet away. As I focused on him falling on his face, I didn't notice the next man who had practically jumped on me. Screeching, I kicked my foot out as hard as I could and knocked him in the nose, causing him to fall backwards. I couldn't laugh at him through the small feeling of victory I had because the next thing I knew, I was knocked back, the back of my head hitting a rather large and hard object- probably a rock. I blacked out.

I woke uncomfortable. My eyes weren't open, but I could feel that slowly I was gaining my awareness back.

Something is wrong.

I could feel my arms, tired and worn, were holding the weight of my body and it _hurt_. My wrists, tied together by rough rope that caused my skin to itch, were behind the hard wooden post that I hung off of.. I could only assume that it was a cross, seeing as one beam was located on both of my sides. And, probably the only thing holding me up here, dangling like the leaves of a willow tree do.

So, it has come to this. I sniffed as quietly as I could, only able to hear the sound of a fire popping. I didn't feel any heat near my feet, so I took that as a sign that it was.. okay.

"Hey,"

For a moment, she thought the gruff voice was talking to her. Even if he was, she didn't open her eyes. She didn't want to.

"We know you're awake, witch!"

A pathetic sob escaped my throat. I couldn't open my eyes, but even though I felt physically weak, I managed to choke out a reply. "Release me!" I cried.

They didn't.

"Oh, we'll release you alright. Release your damned soul of this earth, you heathen!" One of the stockier men shouted. I flinched back, a sob wrecking my whole entire being. I finally opened my eyed, but the sight practically made me feel even worse. We were out in a vast field, dry patches of grass here and there, but the majority of it had to be dirt and rocks. I still felt the pain on my back.

There were maybe thirty people watching with different emotions I could tell, both men and woman combined. The men still outnumbered the women, however.

"Throw the gasoline on her!"

I let out a scream, squirming and trying to wriggle out of my confinement. Deep down I knew it was useless, but I needed to do something..

_Anything_.. _God_, _someone help me!_

A warm, wet wave of gasoline hit me square in the face, managing to get past my lips and into my mouth. I gagged, but from this position it was so hard to throw up, but I swear that I've never tasted anything so.. excruciatingly revolting the way that this did. Spitting it out, I only hung there and took it as they drenched me in the disgusting liquid, overriding my senses with its vile smell.. It's slippery feel. I look down at my favorite sleeping gown, torn and clinging to every single curve of my body. It was disgusting, the way I was stared at. As if I were some fine piece of meat to be devoured.

Tears fell down my cheeks, mixing with the liquid that was already dripping from my head to my toes, and I wait.

"Start the fire!" A man screamed, pointing at me. My eyes widened as they came near me, a match in hand. They tormented me, faking when they were going to throw that _damn _match-

I smelled it before I saw it, but before I could smell it, I felt it. I felt it licking my toes, gradually climbing up my legs by the thin bridges of the liquid gas, burning me, and then burting into one of the largest flames I'm sure I could have ever seen, if my ability to see could even count.

I cried and jerked in all the ways that I could, panic consuming my very being as I tried to put out the fire that consumed me. My once pale skin had blisters all over it, but I didn't have to look to be able to see it. I felt it, and I felt my hair, singed all the way to my scalp.

"SAKURA!"

I couldn't see past the fire, so I closed my eyes. My screams didn't even reach my ears anymore. My skin felt so tight, so hot and so thin. I couldn't cry anymore. I couldn't talk. Everything had faded away; even that distant sound of my best friend, my sister, screaming my name and begging them to put out the flames. I didn't want her to, no matter how excruciating this pain is- my love for my best friend overrode that, so I wouldn't speak to her. It was not as if I could- I also knew that if my last breath were to be her name, and she survived? It'd be all she could hear in her dreams. They'd accuse her of witchery if I proved them right by replying to her. I couldn't do it.

I felt my last painful breath enter my body, even if it burnt my insides, and with that I let out a scream deep down from my diaphragm. I screamed with all my might, with all my pain until it was mere rasps that I couldn't even hear. My voice, faded, and so did I.

Then there was nothing.


End file.
